


amantes sun amentes

by kontj (kaguol)



Series: aegri somna vanna [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Body Horror, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Manananggal, Med Student Shirabu, Mutual Pining, Mythology - Freeform, Mythology References, Philippine mythology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:34:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28085523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaguol/pseuds/kontj
Summary: wherein shirabu kenjirou, fifth year med student, enlists the help of his study buddy for his anatomy final. the catch? they’re a supernatural being straight out of a nightmare, and he’s... well, enamored.
Relationships: Shirabu Kenjirou/Reader
Series: aegri somna vanna [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2057532
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	amantes sun amentes

The first time Shirabu met you, he wasted no time in saying your name, albeit subconsciously. It started off simple, his mouth automatically curving into a grin whenever you came by, your name rolling off his lips with an ease even he himself was surprised.

To him, your name was a hymn and he was more than honored to have the mouth to praise it. He would often just say it out of the blue, when the two of you were alone in his room, eyes nearly sealed shut with the review materials strewn all over the place. 

“Y/N.”

It was enough to get your attention. You’d turn towards him, eyes heavy with exhaustion. Even then, you were the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen. An angel, he found himself thinking, at nights when he laid in bed dreaming of the touch of your lips against his. A deity, he muses, thinking that when the universe created you, It lumped all the good things in it into a beautiful mortal body.

Oh how wrong he was.

“Y/N?”

He doesn’t know why he says that. He doesn’t know why he’s calling the creature in front of him with your name. It couldn’t be farther from you. This might not even be real at all.

He had come down from his flat at an ungodly hour, wanting nothing more than a cold can of caffeine and a break from his textbooks. Shirabu had his head down, fishing out his phone from his pocket, hands moving on their own accord to call you.

The brunette knew you were every bit of a night owl as he was, and you already established a specially stupid ringtone for him to wake you up, in the rare event that you’d be asleep.

So when he heard said special stupid ringtone right in the corner near vending machines, Shirabu hurried to catch you.

What he didn’t expect to see is your lower half — and _only_ your lower half — facing away from him. The phone buzzed and wailed in the pocket of your favorite night pants, yet where a torso should be, he found nothing but air.

Though horrified, Shirabu was transfixed, feet taking small steps towards the stump. A vile stench wafted into his nose, his eyes watering with both disgust and fear. Gulping, he looked down, and had it not been for his many years of studying real cadavers, he would’ve fainted right then.

It looked like someone had simply detached your upper body. It was the perfect cut between your lower limbs and your stomach. It was too perfect — no obvious blood splatters, or any kind of struggle. This isn’t real, he convinced himself. This _can’t_ be real.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, counting to himself. I’m hallucinating, Shirabu thought. Just Iida-sensei’s lecture’s giving me nightmares — literal ones but _just_ nightmares, yeah.

He turns, eyes still shut, letting muscle memory move him to the light of the alleyway. He doesn’t register that he still was calling your phone until he hears the click at his end, heavy breathing replacing the dial tone.

There is a scuffling, and a sound that is more animal than human — cross between a growl and a hiss. “SSShirabu.” The hairs on the nape of his neck stand, effectively stopping him in his tracks. He opens his eyes, chest heaving. The light is so close, yet his body is locked up in fear.

Shirabu waits, bracing for some kind of impact. He waits for the telltale sign of his life flashing before his eyes, sending a prayer for the eternal repose of his soul.

He expects a lot, yet only gets silence, and the softest voice, tinged with enough sorrow to fill a well twice over.

“I’m sssorry.”

The line clicks, and Shirabu whips his head, eyes zeroing on the figure hunched over. He gasps, bile rising to his throat at the sight.

You were cut in half — the stump on the ground now facing him, while the rest of your upper body was suspended in the air. With large wings casting a shadow over the alley, it merely beat in a steady rhythm, the wind kissing the med student’s cold lips.

Your innards hung from the slash across your abdomen, yet there was no discomfort in your movement. Forcing his eyes to look up, he saw the face that had been the first to greet him int he morning, and the last he thinks of at night. He knows that after tonight, that will remain, but for a different reason.

From your mouth came a slithering tongue, darting between sets of sharp gangs that glinted in the moonlight. The hissing continued, yet he could tell that you were trying to mute it. For it was your eyes that spoke a different story.

Through darkened sclera and crimson pupils, Shirabu saw shame and fear eat away at your resolve.

It was you — wholly, undoubtedly, it was you.

The last thing he remembered was whispering your name, before the reality of the situation finally settled in. Darkness dragged him under, and he ran headfirst into its embrace.

* * *

It had been almost four months since that incident.

One would think that after seeing a creature of the night in the flesh, you’d hightail out of the university come first light. Or at the very least switch to a different apartment complex, or friend group altogether.

But Shirabu Kenjirou is built different.

Instead of run away the moment he opened his eyes in the comfort of his bed, he ran towards you. It had been you to place distance between the two of you, and it had been him pestering you.

You couldn’t really get away, not when your professor had paired the two of you for a project, and in the comforts of his very spacious flat, you had told him of your origins.

_Manananggal._

The name was foreign on Shirabu’s tongue, and his first attempt at pronouncing it had been the reason why you laughed in front of him freely again. And like your name, he spoke it a hundred times over in his head, just to make sure it was perfect.

You had told him that it ran in your family, that once, every other generation, a child would be born with the ability to self-segment. “ _Tanggal_ — or detach,” you explained, drawing a line between the hurried doodle that he made on his whiteboard.

Shirabu learned that though you could detach at any given evening, it was innate in your body that you do so on full moons, your mind grappling with your sense of self at the process. Whenever you do detach, you needed to consume blood of any kind in order to come back whole. And you absolutely had to be reattached before sunrise, else your two halves would wither away.

He made the mistake of comparing you to a vampire, to which you only rolled your eyes. _“We’re way cooler,”_ he remembered you saying, before the two of you burst into laughter. 

It had been four months since then. Nothing else changed between the two of you, save for the solidification of your existing bond. It was evident to your peers that you had grown closer with the otherwise aloof bowlcut man. Despite all that, he had been nothing short of understanding. He was careful in his curiosity, and when he did ask, he was earnest.

It was Shirabu that you came to after a night in the sky, helping you change into a different set of clothes and draping you in a weighted blanket to help you calm down. Sometimes he’d ask to see your wings, marveling at their width with silent wonder.

You owed him a lot, and yet he only shrugged at your attempts to pay him back.

“Isn’t this what friends do?”

His words echoed in your mind, which both lifted and dropped your confused heart. You’re not really sure if friends help their supernatural friends to the same extend as he. It was no secret either that your tiny crush on him had increased tenfold at his kindness over your secret.

Sighing, you turned over in your bed. Just as your eyes fluttered close, the blare of your stupid special ringtone for the said brunette rang, your roommate cursing him from the depths of their slumber.

Hurriedly accepting the call, you rummage through your closet for a coat, knowing at when the bowlcut calls at what-the-fuck o’clock in the morning, he’s dragging you into his what-the-fuck-o-clock shenanigans. 

“What is it now, Ken?”

His heart backflipped at your use of his nickname. Not even bothering to hide his smile, he called your name out again. “Come over, I have an idea.”

You rolled your eyes, like you’re not already jogging towards his flat, a bag of chips and drinks in your hand.

* * *

You should’ve known.

You should’ve known something was up, when you saw the glint in his eyes pared with the near-feral grin on his lips. Cute, but borderline unhinged. You could easily overpower Shirabu, that much you knew. Physically, you could knock him out cold or dangle him out his window. In theory, you could do that.

In practice, he need not do much, but plead, eyes wide with false innocence, lips pulled down in a pout. It is then that your heart races in your chest, though your mind yells not to do it don’t you dare.

“Please?”

You sigh, stepping out of the bathroom, adjusting your hoodie and the towel. This is so stupid, you think. Then again, you’re already trying to conceal the smile that’s threatening to rise to your cheeks.

Grateful for the lack of roommates in his apartment, you face the med student, and you swear you could see stars behind his bespectacled eyes. “You asked for this,” you mutter, unwrapping the towel from your waist.

Shirabu gasps as the towel drops, in awe of the scene. Your wings flutter just enough to separate you from your lower half, shirt tied into a haphazard knot in your chest to expose your organs.

The brunette drops to his knees, whispering in wonder hands ghosting from your skin. You turn away, burying your face in your hands as you leaned on the clothes rack for support.

“May I?”

You nod, sighing in defeat. You let your legs drop underneath you in a squat. The med student is gentle, gloved hands prodding with only little force. It sends shivers through your spine that you do your best to avoid.

Silence hangs in the air, and you find yourself drifting off in the rhythmic sound of him muttering medical terms underneath his breath. However, you nearly launch yourself to the ceiling at the first words he says to break the quiet.

**“I’m literally rearranging your guts.”**

**“I hope you fail your anatomy final.”**

You don’t hesitate to bare your fangs at him, darkening your eyes for full effect. The chill that run through his veins is evident, but the cocky smirk on his face says it’s for something else.

Scoffing, you swing your feet at him, earning a bubble of laughter that you couldn’t help but mirror.

“You really should’ve taken me out to dinner first,” you mutter, scooping up the towel. The offhand comment stills him, yet you are a little to preoccupied with reattaching yourself to see.

“If I do, will you say yes?”

Your wings stutter, and had it not been for the rack, you’re sure you would’ve made a crimson mess on his carpet.

“A-As a f —”

“A date. As a date.”

A thousand thoughts race through your mind, yet each one gives you a three letter answer that you’ve always wanted to say. You sigh, schooling your face into nonchalance.

“Never pegged you to be the monster-fucking type.”

He shrugs, removing his mask and gloves. Shirabu dares to stare right into your eyes as he says the next words, mouth quirked in an obscenely cocky smirk.

“Only for you.”


End file.
